Despite the backbreaking work in the stifling heat of the Congo jungle, Janet Chambers was happier than she had ever been in her life. Based on the tantalizing fragments of statuary and the bits of mosaic the expedition had found, there could be no doubt that they had at last discovered the site of the great temple of Iaana, the serpent god of the long-dead B'hari tribe. Outraged by the cult's practice of human sacrifice and sexual rites, European colonists had wiped out the B'hari and razed the temple some 120 years ago.
Janet planted her shovel in the ground, and stood up, kneading the small of her back to relieve the aching muscles. She reached for her water bottle and took a long drink, enjoying it even though the water had grown quite warm in the blazing sun. A small movement in the jungle, just outside her field of vision caught Janet's eye. She turned her full attention to the dense green tangle surrounding the dig site. There was nothing there, yet Janet felt a twinge of fear that raised the hairs on the back of her neck. They were being watched...she was certain of it. She looked to the other seven expedition members, all totally absorbed in their work. Again there was movement. Janet's heart began to pound and she felt a chill despite the smothering heat of the jungle.
"Everybody!" She shouted, "Listen to me! Drop your tools and stand up-hands at your sides and don't move!"
"What's going on?" Dr. Carl Jensen, expedition leader, demanded. "What are..."
"Just do it!" Janet hissed. "Quickly!"
They obeyed, puzzled, scanning the jungle trying to see whatever it was Janet saw. Then, as sudden as the climax of a magician's trick, the group was surrounded by warriors armed with spears and war clubs. The men were naked except for loincloths and body paint that mimicked the scales and pattern of a Python.
"Dear God," Dr. Jensen murmured, "They're B'hari! But that's impossible...they were wiped out over a hundred years ago!"
Janet was as stunned as Dr. Jensen. She had not dreamed this could be possible. Her mind raced with the possibilities. The B'hari warriors quickly searched them, taking anything that looked remotely like a weapon. Their arms were bound behind their backs and they were marched into the jungle.
Janet easily kept up the brutal pace set by the warriors. Unlike the other grad students and the obese Dr. Jensen, Janet was something of a jock, having participated in track and field at the university. She thanked God that she had on sensible hiking shoes and well-padded socks and not the fashionable, blister-producing sneakers the others favored.
At last the band reached the B'hari village, Dr. Jensen and the eight grad students staggering with exhaustion, on the verge of collapse. Even Janet was near the end of her strength and endurance.
They were forced to walk a gantlet of jeering natives who would have torn them limb from limb if not for the presence of the armed guards. After what seemed an eternity, they were locked in a prison hut with heavy bamboo bars covering the opening in the door and the hut's single window.
"What are they going to do to us?" cried Terri Wilson, eyes wide with terror, tears leaving pale streaks against her dirt smeared face. For a moment no one spoke.
"After what happened 120 years ago, it is safe to assume that the B'hari have little love left for Europeans," Dr. Jensen finally said in a voice totally devoid of emotion. "The old temple was their most sacred site, and by our presence, we have defiled it."
Janet nodded in silent agreement. She had read Jean-Claude D'Arnot's 1878 account of his years in the region, the only authoritative account of the B'hari. He had told of how the B'hari treated prisoners and of their mastery of slow torture. Janet prayed that the plan she was formulating would work. It could save the others, but she would have to face the brutal justice of the B'hari alone. She did not ask deliverance for herself, only that she could die quickly if it came to that. Janet did not fear death, but she could not bear the thought of torture; of her body and mind broken; of herself crying and begging the savages for mercy that would never come.
Forcing aside her morbid thoughts, Janet's mind drifted back to the lost world tales, adventure novels and Hollywood jungle epics on which she had been raised. In virtually all of the lurid stories, there was a scene in which the heroine/love interest was attacked by a monstrous Python or Anaconda. Always, the woman would struggle helplessly in the crushing coils until rescued by the White Hunter or the savage Jungle Man. In Janet's fantasies and drawings, it was she who wrestled and defeated the snake. Sometimes she was the queen of a tribe of snake-worshiping natives, performing ritual dances with giant snakes coiling around her naked body; the deadly creatures hypnotized by her will and beauty.
Janet had read everything she could find on snakes and sat in rapt fascination while watching nature shows featuring them. She was filled with envy when Marlin sent Jim to wrestle the Anaconda, wishing it were her instead. When she was fourteen, Janet had purchased a Burmese Python hatchling with her baby sitting earnings - much to her indulgent parent's dismay (they had hoped she would outgrow her "creepy crawlie" stage).
Under her care, Squeezer grew to ten feet in a single year, becoming the perfect prop for the jungle fantasies that she acted out in the privacy of her bedroom. In the summer, she would sometimes take him to her secret hideout in the woods where she played Jungle Girl or Snake Priestess to her hearts content, wrestling with, and sometimes "dying" in the coils of her docile pet. On more than one occasion, she had danced nude with Squeezer's cool body encircling hers as she acted out the serpent rituals conjured up by her over active imagination.
Janet's serpentine fantasies had receded to the background during her college years, until she heard about Dr. Jensen's planned expedition to Africa. The journey would take them to the last unexplored reaches of the Congo with the intention of uncovering of the ruins of the Temple of Iaana.
D'Arnot's lurid accounts of the snake-worshiping race had decided the matter for her; the expedition would be her chance to actually visit what she had only dreamed about as a child. Even though she was not archaeology major, Janet had been on several previous digs with Dr. Jensen's team doing mainly grunt work and the boring cataloging of uncovered artifacts. Her proven strength and stamina under brutal third-world conditions as well as her computer and photographic skills had earned her a place on the roster of the Africa dig.
There was a commotion outside that snapped Janet back to the present. The door to the prison hut opened and several spear carrying women in spiral-patterned war paint, feathers and beads entered, followed by a beautiful woman who wore body paint that mimicked the scales and patterns of a Python like that of the male warriors who had captured them. Her body painting was much more elaborate, done in shades of brown, tan and black rather than the simple white design worn by the warriors. She was the High Priestess of Iaana. Janet recognized the facial markings and jewelry that denoted her rank from an illustration in D'Arnot's book. On either side of her and to the rear were the senior Acolytes, young women in training to ultimately succeed the High Priestess. Like all the B'hari, male and female, the Priestess was tall and slender with long sinewy muscles. Her small breasts were as high and firm as those of a young girl, the skin of her face smooth and unlined even though she would have to have been in her late 40s to have risen to her position in the cult hierarchy. The Priestess eyed the members of the expedition with an expression of utter contempt.
It was a struggle for the Priestess to suppress her joy at the sight of the hated blancs cringing before her. There could be no doubt from their expressions of terror that they realized hers was the power to condemn them all to fates far worse than death. One of the women seemed calmer than the others. Perhaps she was the leader of this group, yet she was too young to be even a senior acolyte. The eldest of them was a male. Could he be their leader, the High Priestess wondered. The histories of the tribe did not mention the presence of women among the blancs who destroyed the original temple. There was speculation that the horrors inflicted on the B'hari by the blancs had been the result of leaderless males running amok.
"Qui commande ici?" she asked in French, the language of the colonials, still passed down among members of the Sisterhood in the event it ever became necessary to speak again with the blancs.
"C'est moi qui commande votre seigneurie." Janet answered quickly, thankful she had chosen French for her foreign language requirement in high school and college. She stood and bowed to the Priestess, then gestured at the others. "Ces personnes sont mes serviteurs et ne faisaient que suivre mes orders."
"Now just a minute, Janet!" shouted Dr. Jensen, scrambling to his feet. "Just what do you think you're doing?" He pushed Janet aside and turned to the Priestess.
"There must be some way we can make amends for..." he began in French. Before he could say another word, Janet grabbed Dr. Jensen by the collar, spun him around and slapped his face with all her might, sending him sprawling to the floor.
"Don't say another word if you wish to live!" she hissed in English, her face a mask of fury. She looked at the others, her expression commanding them into silence. Like Dr. Jensen, they stared at their comrade in stunned amazement. Suddenly understanding, Dr. Jensen scrambled to his knees and bowed to Janet. Ignoring him she turned to the Priestess and again bowed deeply to her.
"Please forgive him My Lady." Janet said. "He meant no harm or insult. Males are given more autonomy in my land than is considered seemly here."
"You know why you are here and what is in store for you, blanc?" The Priestess asked. "You were captured in the ruins of the Old Temple, defiling...stealing. Iaana demands sacrifice for violating His taboo."
"I know, My Lady." Janet said. She drew a deep breath and swallowed hard, her mouth and throat totally devoid of moisture. How well she pulled this off would either free her friends or condemn them all to a terrible death. "My servants were merely following my orders. As a Priestess of Iaana I should have know better."
Dr. Jensen, still kneeling, looked up in surprise at Janet's last statement. He knew what Janet intended. He wanted to shout, "No!" but he knew there was no other way.
This can only be a trick, the Priestess' mind screamed as she stared at Janet, even more enraged than before. Or it was the most obscene blasphemy possible...after all, the blancs had destroyed the temple, stolen priceless treasures...could they have dared to steal the B'hari's religion too? She spoke something in her language and one of the spear women put down her weapon and drew a long, wicked looking dagger from her belt. The warrior woman approached Janet.
"You claim to be one of us, blanc." the Priestess said. "Where is your Godmark?" The Priestess turned to show the design of raised scars that covered her back. It was a stylized representation of the Python God.
Janet said nothing as the warrior woman cut the back of her shirt open and ripped it apart to expose her back. Janet turned so that the Priestess could see what was there. Janet's back was covered by a large tattoo. It was a stylized spiral-shaped, black work image of a coiled Python, an ink copy of the Priestess' scarification, identical down to the last line. The Priestess touched her index finger to her tongue to wet it and rubbed at the tattoo, finding it indelible.
"You are not B'hari, yet you wear the sign of Iaana etched into your flesh." The woman said suspiciously, moving closer so she could see Janet's face. "Why?"
Janet held her breath for a moment, the Priestess' eyes bored into hers unblinking, filled with rage. Her next words would mean the difference between a slow agonizing death for them all and a relatively merciful one for herself alone.
"All my life I have loved snakes..." she began. "I read of your culture and was fascinated by the legends of Iaana. I began to worship Iaana in my own way, creating my own rituals. When I saw a drawing of His symbol in an ancient book, I thought it was the most wonderful thing I had ever seen...a perfect expression of the Python's strength and beauty. I knew that wearing His mark it would show the world that I was a Priestess of the True God When I was old enough, I had it tattooed on my body as my people do not practice scarification."
The Priestess said nothing. Janet pointed to the bag she had been allowed to keep after it had been searched for weapons.
"May I show you something?" she asked. The Priestess nodded and Janet opened the bag under the watchful eye of the spear women. She took out her wallet and removed a photo that she handed to the Priestess. It was a picture of herself and Squeezer taken the previous summer. In it she smiled happily at the camera, fifteen feet of snake wrapped around her waist, shoulders and hips; the Python's head cradled against her cheek. Janet had been wearing a string bikini when the picture was taken, but the position of the snake's massive body obscured it, making it appear as if she were nude. The Priestess studied the picture with great interest.
"This is a Python..." she said, a frown on her face. "But not the kind we know. The markings of the head are similar, but not those of the body."
"It is a Burmese Python," answered Janet. "From lands far to the East...India and Indochina. I raised him from a hatchling to the size you see there. I consider him my personal avatar of Iaana."
The Priestess asked Janet several questions about Iaana and listened without emotion as the white woman revealed her knowledge of the True Faith. There were gaps in her theology, filled by speculation and unguided by the Law. She was either a very clever liar, or she truly believed her unsound doctrines. The Priestess said nothing when Janet had answered all her questions, seemingly lost in thought. Long minutes crept by. She looked again at the photograph of Janet and the Python. She had made her decision.
"You have made your case, blanc." The Priestess said. "I declare you to be a heretic, a renegade. The punishment for founding an unauthorized temple and the teaching of false doctrine is death. Your slaves could not go against their Priestess' orders, even those of a heretic, and are hereby declared blameless in this matter. By Ianna's mercy they are free to return to your people and tell them of your fate. My warriors will take them back to their camp and insure that they leave our lands. You will be dealt with at midnight."
The Priestess and her entourage left the hut.
"My God, Janet," Dr. Jensen said, shaking his head sadly. "Do you realize what you have done?"
"You can all leave." She said weakly, too numb to bother covering her bare breasts with the ruins of her shirt. "It was the only way...they would have killed all of us..."
The guards rounded the expedition members up and lead them from the hut and back to the trail leading to the dig site and their base camp. The pace was quick, but less punishing than the last time they had made it.
"What was that all about?" Terri asked in confusion. "Why did Janet hit you? What did she tell that woman?"
"The B'hari are a matriarchal race." Dr. Jensen replied. "On matters of tribal law and their religion, men have no say. Janet remembered that fact before I did. If I had tried to negotiate with the Priestess, she would have taken it as a mortal insult. Janet convinced them that she was in charge...that she is a heretic Priestess of Iaanaa and thus responsible for the intrusion into the temple site."
"Is that what the business with the tattoo was?" someone else asked.
"Yes..." Dr. Jensen replied. "I don't understand it all, but it worked. We are free."
"What about Janet?" Terri wailed. "We can't just leave her! We can't"
"We have no choice." Dr. Jensen said. "Now save your strength, its a long walk back to the camp."
"What are they going to do to her?" Terri insisted.
"At midnight Janet will be sacrificed to the B'hari's god." he said quietly. "They will take her to their temple and let the giant python they keep there crush her to death."
The Priestess was furious. By all rights the blancs should be screaming their lives away under the knives and fires of the torturers. The woman, Janet, had used the B'hari's Law against them. As a heretic, her life was Iaana's alone to take. The Priestess stopped her angry pacing and took a deep breath to calm herself. She bowed to the idol in the corner of her room. It was a bronze statue salvaged from the original temple showing an ecstatic nude woman in the coils of a huge serpent. She smiled. There was no trick that could save the white woman from her fate.
Janet sat alone in the prison hut. It was hard to concentrate on any one thing for very long. She was not afraid, feeling only an indescribable sense of excitement, which puzzled her. After a while she had fallen asleep from fatigue and the waning of the adrenaline rush which had kept her going all day. She woke when a young B'hari girl had entered the hut with a tray of fruit and a cup of water. Her last meal ,no doubt. Janet dug into the food greedily. The girl watched in silence.
"Parle-vous, Francais?" Janet asked her.
"Yes, blanc, a little." she replied, eyes wide at the wonder that the white woman could speak the strange tongue taught only in the temple to members of the Sisterhood.
"What is your name, little one?" Janet asked.
"My name is Noumia," said the girl, looking at the door, shifting her weight nervously, unsure if she should speak to the prisoner.
"That's a pretty name," said Janet. "And you are a pretty girl. Are you an Acolyte?"
"Yes." she replied. "I am one of the Third Circle, a servant to Taleena, the High Priestess. At the next full moon I will join the Second Circle and will serve in her honor guard. Perhaps, Iaana willing, I will become a Priestess some day." The girl seemed to stand straighter as she boasted of her rank, puffing out her chest a bit, a big smile on her face.
"How did your people survive the burning time...when the evil blancs destroyed the temple?" Janet asked.
The girl narrowed her eyes at Janet, perhaps realizing for the first time that she was talking to an "evil blanc".
"T'ouva, the Priestess of that time did not trust you blancs." Noumia said. "She had sacred items and the books of the Law removed from the old temple and brought to this place. The older acolytes and trusted warriors were tasked with starting a new, secret temple in this part of the jungle where blancs dared not intrude. The Priestess' wisdom was proven correct when your people destroyed the Great Temple and killed so many of the B'hari, including T'ouva herself!"
There was nothing more to say. Noumia gathered the tray and cup and left. Janet looked at her watch. It was almost 11 PM. Her life would be over in another hour or so. Janet heard drumming from the other side of the village. The ceremony was starting, she guessed. Then a group of spear women came for her and led her out of the hut, where a mob had gathered.
At the sight of Janet, the people screamed and hurled curses at her, worked into a frenzy by the ceremonial execution that was to come. She was led down a path lined on both sides with wooden pillars carved to resemble huge serpents rising from the ground. Dr. Jensen had found fragments of such pillars at the site the expedition had excavated, Janet recalled. The path, lit by dozens of torches led to the shrine of the Python God, a large building surrounded by a wall that was painted with the image of a giant snake that seemed to hold the structure in its coils.
The interior of the shrine was one of Janet's fantasies brought to life. Murals depicting the B'hari creation myths and images of Iaana covered the walls; many of the pictures blatantly sexual with scenes of the god-serpent, coupling with human women. They passed a group of attentive young girls who sat in a circle around an older acolyte who was teaching them an erotic snake dance. The older girl's nude body glistened with oil and sweat as she writhed and twisted beneath the weight of the 12-foot python coiled around her. Janet's eyes grew wide at the sight, her heart pounding with excitement.
She was taken to a small room where she was to be prepared for the ordeal to come. She was made to stand in a pool of water and submit to a thorough scrubbing by a group of giggling young acolytes who found her large breasts and small, by B'hari standards, stature comical. They were absolutely hysterical with laughter over the sight of her neatly trimmed thatch of pubic hair and the fine hair that covered her legs-shaving being a luxury Janet had to forego in the field. She felt like a Sasquatch next to the smooth, hairless B'hari women. But not for long. One of the girls produced a thin, obsidian blade and as the others held her, shaved Janet's body as smooth as their own. Holding her was unnecessary. The blade was sharper than steel and the slightest flinch would slash her to the bone. It wouldn't do to bleed to death in her bath before she could be properly executed Janet chuckled to herself.
Once she was scrubbed clean and shaven, Janet was taken down a winding corridor to the main chamber. It was nearly midnight.
Janet felt strangely exhilarated. Her senses seemed to be heightened as if she had taken a hallucinogenic drug. Janet was barely able to cope with the myriad of sensations flowing into her; the texture of the stone beneath her bare feet; the vivid colors of the serpentine murals that appeared to writhe in the flickering torchlight of the tunnels which lead to the main chamber of the temple. The pounding of the drums resonated through her body, and the smell of exotic incense intoxicated her. It was as though in her last minutes of life her senses were overloading as she tried to absorb everything at once.
In the main chamber, the High Priestess and her acolytes stood in a circle around a ten by fifteen foot pit roughly ten feet deep. There was a smaller pit a few feet behind the larger one, but it was covered by palm fronds. The walls of the room were encircled by a giant mosaic of an immense Python; the god Iaana. The Priestess' body painting was even more elaborate now, the tan, brown and black pattern more carefully applied and shaded so that it looked as if she had the actual scales and pattern of an African Rock Python. The drumming and chanting stopped as the Priestess raised her hands and prepared to pronounce judgment.
"You are a heretic, a defiler and thief...a descendent of those who destroyed Iaana's original temple. You and your companions trespassed upon the sacred lands of the B'hari and attempted to steal from our ancestral temple. The punishment for this sacrilege is death." The Priestess' eyes bored into Janet's. "Despite not being one of the B'hari, you attempted to honor our God, albeit, without the guidance of the Law. This act of obeisance has spared you from the torturers, but it is not enough to save your life. Your punishment will be that reserved for those of the Sisterhood who violate Iaana's laws. You will be given to the temple Python to die in its coils."
Janet's lips curved in a half-smile as she felt excitement grow within her. Her greatest fantasy was about to be realized-mortal combat with a deadly constrictor! This would not be like her childhood play-acting with a fat, lazy pet she had raised from a hatchling! Janet shivered as she imagined herself wreathed in steel-like coils, fighting for her life as the breath was slowly squeezed from her. That she could not win did not matter. She knew that here, there were far worse ways to die.
One of the acolytes, Janet saw that it was Noumia, approached carrying an earthenware cup. The Priestess took it and held it out to Janet.
"In the name of our God, I extend to you this small act of mercy for the bravery you have shown," said the Priestess. The cup contained a dark liquid. It smelled of alcohol and something with a cloying, herbal scent. "This is Tanoc, brewed from a sacred herb. It removes fear; you will go easily to your death. Spare yourself needless suffering, blanc, drink."
"Thank you, My Lady for your kindness." Janet said, bowing to the woman. "But I wish my mind to remain clear when I face the Python." There was a murmur of surprise from the assembled women.
"Foolish blanc," the Priestess spat in disgust. "The Python you will face is capable of killing a leopard; you have no chance of surviving. Drink the Tanoc and die without suffering."
Again Janet refused. The Priestess shook her head then motioned to the guards.
Janet was led down a bamboo ramp into the larger of the two pits. In its center was a pair of the serpent posts. She was made to kneel between the posts and her arms were lashed tightly to them, making it impossible to stand. Janet began to panic. She had assumed that she would merely be thrown into the pit, not bound helplessly. She would not stand a chance this way! Again, the priestess offered Janet the narcotic drink.
"Your last chance for mercy, blanc." she said. "You know how Pythons kill their prey; the terror; the futile struggle to survive in the face of slow, agonizing suffocation...spare yourself." Janet swallowed, her mouth dry as cotton.
"No." she managed to croak.
"Now it begins." the priestess said, handing the cup back to Noumia. Another acolyte approached and offered the Priestess a knife. The woman knelt in front of Janet and began to chant. The blade was honed sharper than a razor. Janet felt almost no pain it as it sliced into her flesh. The Priestess made small nicks above and below Janet's breasts and across her abdomen.
The cuts bled freely and itched annoyingly. The Priestess and the acolytes began an eerie chant in their language, the only word of it Janet could understand was the name of the god, Iaana. Finally the Priestess stood.
"You were foolish to refuse the Tanoc," She said. "Your courage will fail you when the Python is released and it attacks you, drawn by the scent of your blood. You will beg for mercy, shaming yourself as Iaana crushes the life from you."
The Priestess and the acolytes left the pit and the bamboo ramp was withdrawn. Janet heard the drumming slow to a single pounding note; not unlike the beat of a gigantic heart.
The bamboo door at the far end of the pit slid open to reveal a tunnel that led to the other pit. From the darkness came a familiar sound, the hiss of a large snake. A few heartbeats later, the nearly foot-long head of an African Rock Python emerged from the darkness, rose almost to Janet's eye level and surveyed it's surroundings, forked tongue tasting the air. Janet's heart pounded with excitement as yard after yard of the snake's body slowly poured from the tunnel, scales gleaming in the torchlight. It was beautiful Janet thought. She estimated the serpent to be well over twenty-five feet long and more than two-hundred fifty pounds. Janet watched mesmerized as the great snake glided towards her. A foot or so away from her, the Python came to a stop and drew its massive body into a nest of coils, head and neck drawn back in a defensive "S" curve, ready to strike.
Iaana's consciousness flowed into the body of the great serpent. It had been a long time since he had been drawn to the world of mortals. The gifts of sacrifice-derived mana, from which all gods drew their power, had become few and far in between. Iaana reflected briefly on his existence. He survived mainly on the weak mana that came from the blind faith of his dwindling number of believers. It was not nearly enough. Iaana knew that he was dying. When the last of the B'hari died, he would join the others; Baal, Zeus, Tiamaat, Dagon, Astarte, Eurynome...so many in that dark cold place. But now, the prospect of sacrifice drew him into the body of the temple Python. Iaana's eyes focused on his gift. To the god's surprise, it was one of the blancs, the people who had reduced him to his meager existence!
Janet could not take her eyes away from the Python. It still sat motionless, staring at her, for what seemed to her an eternity, only it's tongue moved, flickering in her direction, tasting the air. Then the Python drew closer, raising it's massive body until its eyes were level with Janet's. The great snake's eyes glowed red from some internal light.
To Iaana's senses, the woman's body blazed like a bar of iron, heated white hot in a forge. He paused to study her, to take in the incredibly strong outpouring of mana. It had been ages since he had had such a gift; only a willing sacrifice gave off this much energy. The white incandescence was tinged by the slightest flicker of red-fear. All mortal creatures feared death, Ianna reflected, but there was only the tiniest bit of fear present in the woman's aura; the fact that she wanted him to take her was undeniable.
Janet drew in a sharp breath as her mind began to grasp what could not possibly be true...the serpent-god had possessed the Python in order to take her as His sacrifice! She held her breath, not daring to move as the snake drew even closer. It couldn't be possible...Iaana was a myth! She had been drugged...that or that her mind had snapped were the only possible explanations...this was a fantasy she thought, one last attempt to deny the reality that a deadly predator was about to take her life. Janet closed her eyes and waited, knowing that at any second, the serpent's needle-like teeth would rip into her flesh to anchor itself as it coiled about her and slowly crushed her to death.
Instead, Janet felt the feather touch of the Python's flickering tongue on her eyelids, her nose, her lips. The snake moved lower, tasting the blood from the cuts on her upper chest, and brushed her stiffening nipples as its head moved lower still. The questing tongue tickled her stomach then sought her now hairless sex. Janet drew a sharp, deep breath as the forked tongue teased her clit, sending an almost electrical jolt through her body. The snake slid between her legs, then up over her hip, curling around her waist as it began to wrap around her body. The Python arched its body so that it's back surface rubbed lightly against her cunt as it passed.
"Yes!" she whispered dreamily as the snake climbed her body. "I am yours Iaana." She felt no fear; she would be a willing sacrifice if that was what the God wanted.
The snake's body was cool against her heated flesh. She felt the powerful muscles flex and tighten as the Python slowly coiled more and more of itself around her. So far it had made no move to crush her, only holding her tightly as it wrapped around her. Two coils were around her chest, and one around her waist.
Janet moaned with pleasure as the snake's thick coils wreathed her body from her waist to just beneath her armpits, squeezing just enough to make breathing an act of will. The Python looped another coil about her neck. Janet felt her bound arms stretched painfully in their sockets from the weight of the snake, yet she found herself grinding her hips against the Python's body as it slid between her legs. The Python squeezed tighter and tighter, depriving her of oxygen.
Janet's breathing came in labored gasps as she neared orgasm. She knew that she was dying, but still Janet struggled to satisfy herself one last time. She felt darkness closing in on her as her last breath was squeezed from her. Then the darkness seemed to explode into a million stars as Janet felt the first spasms of ecstasy wash over her.
When she regained her senses, Janet found herself sprawled on the ground, the Python coiled loosely about her body, it's head raised like a Cobra's, blazing eyes focused on hers.
"Yes, blanc," said a voice in her mind. "I am Iaana. My worshipers demand that I take your life. Convince me that I should not give them their wish."
Iaana listened to the white woman, smiling inwardly at the madness that shown in her eyes. No, not madness the god realized, but the blazing light of fanaticism. She was his to command.
Above, the B'hari watched in silence as the Python released Janet. She stood and the Python raised himself Cobra fashion in front of her until his head was level with Janet's eyes. Janet leaned forward and kissed the top of the snake's great head, nuzzling the creature as if it were a tame cat or dog, smiling in ecstasy as the forked tongue flickered over her lips. The Python withdrew and slithered back into it's hiding place as Janet bowed to her god. She then turned and faced her sisters.
Quickly, the ramp was extended into the pit and the women waited for Janet to rejoin them.
"Sisters, there is much to be done," she said. "I must return to my land, before others come looking for me and again harm the B'hari." She took the high priestess' hands and looked into the woman's eyes.
"But first," Janet continued. "I must learn the Law and truly become one of the Sisterhood."
Taleena too, saw the strange light in the white woman's eyes. She was touched by Iaana. There could be no doubt. The High Priestess grinned broadly and embraced Janet.
"Prepare yourself Sister," Taleena said. There is much to learn and much to endure."
The rescue mission was setting up its staging area near the dig site when Janet stumbled from the jungle. She was feverish, clothing hanging from her body in tatters, the flesh of her back sliced and cut into a spiral shaped pattern of raised scars. She was flown to the capital city by helicopter for treatment of her wounds and the ordeal she had experienced at the hands of the savages. Her story made headlines worldwide, but Janet could add little to it, her memory a blur from the traumatization she had undergone. The doctors could do nothing about the scars on her back as they had healed too much to attempt removal of the scaring agent the B'hari had used on her. In time, Janet returned to America.
Her friends from the expedition came to visit her, but Janet could not bring herself to talk about any of the events following the release of Dr. Jensen and the others. It was no surprise when Janet did not return to the university in the fall. It was a surprise, however, when Janet vanished from her home taking only some clothing and her pet Python, Squeezer. Periodically Janet would call her parents to assure them that she was well, and that she would not be seeing them for some time. The calls were made at random and were too short to trace. Nothing her parents said could convince her to come home. Years passed.
The Williams were out when the phone rang. The nanny heard it ring three times, then silence.
Two heartbeats later it rang again. The nanny picked it up.
"Mistress Janet?" She asked, eyes wide with excitement.
"Yes." came the voice at the other end. "I just spoke to my mother. She said that father is seriously ill, his heart, that I must come home immediately. Is it true?"
"No, mistress." Said the young woman, glancing across the street at the man mowing the lawn.
"Your father is well. With my own eyes, I see him now, doing yardwork."
"Thank you Noumia," said Janet. "Iaana watch over you."
"May He guard your path, Mistress." Said Noumia.
Janet shook her head. Too bad they did not know that the William's nanny was one of her sisters, brought over from Africa four years earlier. It had been easy to establish the first Temple of Iaana in New Orleans, a city of Voodoo, Santeria, Vampire cults and other strange faiths. It had been even easier to establish temples in Los Angeles and Albuquerque, centers of the occult and New Age. Another dozen B'hari were on their way to America to help run the New Orleans temple under the guidance of Noumia, who had given the Williams her notice and was now Senior Acolyte, soon to be initiated as Priestess. Taleena had control over the New Mexico temple and soon Janet would promote one of the other Senior Acolytes and move on to New York to start another temple. Another year or two and all the B'hari would be safely on this side of the Atlantic, Janet thought as she rose from her desk. It had been a long, slow struggle, but it was paying off. Thus far over 10,000 followed Iaana, more than had ever worshiped the serpent god. In her bedroom, Janet stripped and stood before the full length mirror, running her fingers over the spiral scarification that covered her belly. It was beautiful, and only she had it; a sign that she was given her mission by the god Himself. She turned to her bed where Squeezer sprawled, taking up most of the king-size mattress. The snake's eyes glowed red as Iaana lived in his body now. Janet lay down beside him, sliding under the thick coils as if they were a blanket, reveling in the sensation of the cool heavy body sliding around her. There was much to do; temples to found; souls to convert to the Faith. Only at times like this did her mind stray from the work at hand.
Iaana/Squeezer slid his length between Janet's parted thighs, he could feel the force of sexual mana build to volcanic levels within her, waiting to be released by orgasm. She moaned and writhed beneath him. He moved slower, drawing out the process, pinning her arms with his coils so she could not touch her fevered clit. Her release would come from him alone. What a wonderful servant, he observed as she bucked and ground her hips against him.
Janet screamed loudly as she came, the release of mana sweeping over Iaana like a whirlwind as orgasm wracked her body. She felt the great snake shiver in ecstasy for a moment, then collapse on her body, both of them totally spent.
Janet ran her fingers over the smooth scaled body, the Python's head resting between her breasts.
It would take many years, but one day, Iaana would rule the Earth. She had faith.
The Junglerot Kid